Life
by Kiara-g
Summary: She was known to be the best knight of Lusitania and she managed to distinguish herself more than proudly among the Parsian army as well. She was precise, resolved, unstoppable, but that day Estelle seemed strangely tired and her blows were losing more and more power under Alfreed's assaults. Another well delivered blow and the queen's sword bolted away twirling. [ArslanxEstelle]
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer**_ _: I don't own any of the characters_

 _ **Note**_ _: this fanfiction only represents my personal headcanon. Read it as it is: my own version of the events._

 _I translated this from my original work (written in Italian), so be aware of possible grammar mistakes. Suggestions and advices are welcomed!_

 **Chapter 1**

The battle was over. They, the soldiers of the Parsian army, had managed to avoid the enemy's advance on the terrain of the allied Lusitania. After the first moments of disbelief, enthusiasm quickly spread among the troops, venting in exultant and proud exclamations that contrasted the cloudy sky.

However, not everyone had been overwhelmed by the wave of relief that victory had brought along: King Arslan, still on his horse and with the blood soaked sword clutched in his hand, was looking around restlessly. Anxiety and worry disfigured his gentle features, while his gaze wandered along the battlefield from side to side.

"Estelle!", he called venting all his distress. However, no answer followed his cry, except the cheering voices of the army invoking his name.

"Estelle!"

Again, nothing more than the troop's clamor. Arslan moved a few meters forward and started looking at the crowd of soldiers again, managing to glimpse only bouncing spears and long flags dancing in mid-air.

"Damn it", he cursed gritting his teeth, clamping tighter his sword's hilt.

All of a sudden, a gap opened in the solid mass of troops. The king turned abruptly and a glint of hope lightened his blue eyes. However, it wasn't Estelle who was paving her way through the soldiers; it was Elam. Arslan's gaze clouded just a little, encouraged by the smile painted on his friend's face.

"Your Majesty!", he said getting closer. "Her Majesty the Queen is now at the camp. She's been wounded but the prompt treatments will grant her a complete healing!", he said breathlessly. Arslan's face regained its usual brightness. He thanked Elam and replacing the sword in its scabbard he rushed at full gallop to the main camp.

As soon as he moved the cloth closing the tent, he was welcomed by Daryun's, Narsus' and Alfreed's reassuring looks, but they failed to soften the pain his heart suffered at the sight of Estelle's golden armor still stained with blood, abandoned a few meters away.

"What did happen? Where is she?", he asked immediately looking around.

A short gray-haired and gray-bearded man on whose white clothing were unmistakable red stains, got closer.

"Your Majesty", he greeted performing a deep bow. "I'm a doctor from a near village and I've been called for the emergency that got involved your Queen. Her Majesty has been hit with a sword on her left shoulder and arm. Luckily, this will not have permanent consequences. Her Majesty is no longer in danger and right now she's resting."

Arslan listened silently and only hearing the last two reassuring sentences he realized he had been holding his breath. He smiled and thanked the man. Then he turned to Daryun to learn who helped Estelle to get away from the fight.

"However", the man resumed unexpectedly, "in a place like this the wounds could be in contact with contaminated substances and cause and infection and... in these circumstances I haven't any expedient to face this eventuality", he concluded with an embarrassed whisper.

"I can take care of this", Narsus intervened suddenly. He reached the sacks ordered at the bottom of the tent. He opened one of them and took out a handful of purple dust. Arslan and Daryun looked at him doubtfully, but Alfreed, having recognized the medicament due to the typical color, jerked inexplicably.

"What do you mean?", the king asked.

The root from which this dust is obtained is able to prevent infections and lower the pain as well. I can prepare an infusion and Her Majesty will immediately find solace", he explained bowing slightly. Arslan smiled and approached the Court Painter.

"I'd be very grateful, Narsus."

"No!", Alfreed exclaimed rushing towards the strategist and making him drop the purple dust. The shocked gazes of the king and his collaborators converged on the young woman.

"What's the problem, Alfreed?", Daryun asked, failing or not wanting to hide his disappointment. She bit her lip showing a certain discomfort.

"Alfreed?", Narsus urged her lifting an eyebrow, more annoyed than incredulous since he was clearly missing something.

"We can't use this root. It would only bring harm to Her Majesty", she answered vaguely, hoping the explanation would be enough.

"What are you talking about?", Arslan asked losing his patience. Alfreed breathed in and lowered her eyes.

"Alright…", she whispered hesitantly. "This… This root can cause a miscarriage and…"

Narsus opened his eyes wide, Daryun kept staring at her motionless, Arslan felt his heart missing a beat, as in their minds insinuated an undeniable truth.

"Her Majesty is expecting a baby."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer**_ _: I don't own any of the characters_

 _ **Note**_ _: this fanfiction only represents my personal headcanon. Read it as it is: my own version of the events._

 _I translated this from my original work (written in Italian), so be aware of possible grammar mistakes. Suggestions and advices are welcomed!_

 _Someone asked me about the time setting. In this story Arslan's about 25 years old (so I guess Pars Era 330/331?)_

 **Chapter 2**

 _Two months earlier_

 _Alfreed had accepted right away: she always spared some time to train. And since the Queen herself had asked her, she couldn't have refused! That's why she found herself fighting against Estelle's brave blade in the inner little square of the Palace. She was known to be the best knight of Lusitania and she managed to distinguish herself more than proudly among the Parsian army as well. She was precise, resolved, unstoppable, but not that day. Estelle seemed strangely tired and her blows were losing more and more power under Alfreed's assaults. Another well delivered blow and the queen's sword bolted away twirling. It smacked into the cobblestones not far away. The pang in her belly was so painful she collapsed on the ground._

" _Your Majesty!"_

 _Alfreed came to the sovereign, helping her to stand up and sit on the rim of the central fountain._

" _It's nothing. I'm just feeling a bit nauseous," Estelle tried to reassure her, pressing a hand on her stomach. "I had a moment of weakness," she admitted. Alfreed looked at her doubtfully._

" _You shouldn't underestimate your sickness. I noticed you haven't been feeling well these last few days," she pointed out. "I'd better call the doctor…"_

" _No!" Estelle exclaimed grabbing her arm. Alfreed blocked and stared at her raising an eyebrow._

" _I don't need one…" the queen said quickly._

" _At least you should let him express an opinion about this."_

" _I don't need one," she insisted, faintly swinging back and forth. "There isn't much to express about my… condition. I can only wait," she whispered lowering her gaze and nervously tapping the fountain's rim with her fingers. An undecipherable look appeared on Alfreed's face as the doubt insinuated hopelessly in her mind. She knelt in front of the queen and took her hands: a gesture that cancelled the difference between their ranks._

" _Are you pregnant?" she asked her, ignoring the royal protocol dictating absolute distance between subject and sovereign. However, it looked more like a statement than a question. Estelle waited a few moments, but her amber eyes weren't able to lie; she nodded slowly and her face showed a certain embarrassment. Alfreed smiled and squeezed her hands again._

" _What wonderful news!" she said. "I'm sure King Arslan will be overjoyed too."_

" _He must not know," Estelle interrupted abruptly, feeling self-confident again. Alfreed stared at her, stunned._

" _But…"_

" _We're leaving for Lusitania in two days. If he knew, he'd surely prevent me to take part in the campaign," she explained standing up._

" _Of course!" Alfreed exclaimed. "A war would put both you and the baby in danger!"_

" _Shh!" the queen hushed her, lifting a finger to her mouth. "Never speak of this again. Forget this conversation. No one must know."_

" _Your Majesty…" the young woman tried to reply._

" _No. This is about my beloved homeland and I couldn't forgive myself if I weren't able to protect it," she said heading towards the colonnade._

 _Alfreed's eyes followed her. Even if with difficulty, she had to accept that she hadn't other choice but to obey Her Majesty's wish._

Arslan thrust the tent open. Estelle lay on a makeshift bed covered with a white cloth. All around there were only a few wooden trunks and some remnants of pinkish fabric abandoned on the ground. She turned around drawn by the armor's clinking, bending her lips in a painful grimace. Seeing her husband, she smiled softly and making an effort she managed to sit. Her long blond hair, tied by a black ribbon, fell on her right shoulder, while on the left one Arslan glimpsed under her blue tunic tight white bandages on which stood out reddish stripes.

"We've won, haven't we?" she asked proudly. Arslan didn't answer her.

His expression was still, tense and his eyes were clouded by disapproval.

"Judging from your look you wouldn't say so…" Estelle observed. "But you can't fool me, I can hear the men's yells from here," she added confidently, waving her hand in mid air. Arslan realized he didn't know what to do or what to say, so he locked eyes with the queen, looking for an answer in her amber gaze. He decided to act on impulse and got closer to her, sitting then on the bed. Estelle followed his movements refusing to drop her smirk. They remained motionless for a few seconds, looking into each other eyes. Suddenly, without saying a word, Arslan raised his hand slowly, then he laid it gently on his wife belly.

Estelle started. The smirk on her lips faded immediately and her body stiffened, suddenly insensitive to the pain in her shoulder. Arslan's face, whose expression was previously incomprehensible, was now conveying all his disappointment and his eyes were clouded by sadness and anger at the same time. They didn't need anything more than this.

"Who told you?" Estelle asked dissolving the oppressive silence dominating in the tent. "It was Alfreed, wasn't she?" she continued. "Damn it. I had ordered her to keep quiet…"

"What could be more important, Estelle?" Arslan interrupted her, his words were full of tension. "How could you even think of not telling me?!" he exclaimed. Estelle was hushed by her husband's unexpected outburst. Her features stiffened even more and anger and annoyance thickened in her chest.

"I love my homeland Arslan. I love my people" she answered irritated. "If I had told you, you wouldn't even have let me come out the Palace! Don't deny it!"

"I don't deny it at all! You would have been safe. You are not able to fight and those wounds prove it! You've been reckless!" he blamed her.

"Wanting to protect my own homeland isn't recklessness!" Estelle retorted decisively. "And these wounds are nothing. They'll heal…" she concluded with fake disregard, settling better on her back. Arslan's eyes burned in rage.

"How can you not realize it? You put my child's life in danger!" he shouted at her grabbing her arms. Estelle glared at him.

"I know my limits. I'm not a monster, you're forgetting this _my_ child too," she exclaimed leaning forward.

"What kind of mother would risk her baby's life like this?!"

The words left his mouth before he could realize it. Estelle's lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. Arslan pulled back, well aware that he had hurt her more than the enemy's sword did. However he didn't say a word.

"Go away. Leave me alone," Estelle whispered lowering her eyes, while a tear dripped on her face. After a moment's hesitation Arslan stood up making the armor creaking and headed towards the exit.

"You'll leave for Ecbatana this very night," he said turning his back on her. He moved the cloth and left her alone.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer**_ _: I don't own any of the characters_

 _ **Note**_ _: this fanfiction only represents my personal headcanon. Read it as it is: my own version of the events._

 _I translated this from my original work (written in Italian), so be aware of possible grammar mistakes. Suggestions and advices are welcomed!_

 _Sorry for the waiting but this chapter caused me some trouble so I apologize for the possible translation mistakes!_

 **Chapter 3**

The wagon had left the camp before midnight. Arslan had followed it with eyes until it was swallowed by the darkness. He closed his eyes and sighed. He tried to clear his mind, relaxed by the soft breeze caressing his face and by the popping of the fire between the tents. His calm, however, didn't last more than a few minutes: suddenly a rustle behind his back made him grab instinctively his sword. He turned around and when Daryun appeared from the darkness his body was crossed by a shiver of relief.

"Your Majesty," he began bowing. "The recon team has just returned. No unusual movement has been noticed", he reported.

"Good," Arslan commented. "If that's all, you're free to go and rest," he said, turning his back on him again, letting his gaze get lost in the dark forest beyond the camp.

Daryun lowered slightly his head and prepared to leave but the lump in his throat that had been tormenting him all day long didn't allow him to move a single step.

"Your Majesty," he said turning to the king, "I understand this is an extremely difficult moment for you. However, I beg you to not allow these circumstances to make you forget that this news has to be greatly joyful for you and your queen."

Daryun's words, as always filled with sincerity, touched the king's sensitivity. The General bowed again and moved a few steps towards the tents.

"So many times I've imagined how this moment would have been… and yet I'd never thought it would have gone like this," Arslan chuckled bitterly. Daryun stopped.

"After rebuilding Pars, I promised myself I would have rebuilt my life as well and filled that emptiness I hadn't managed to fill yet," he said lifting a hand to his chest. The General turned around and allowed himself a few seconds to observe the king's figure. His legs, illuminated by the small fire burning undisturbed, cast trembling shadows on the ground. His arms, resolved when they handled the sword in battle, now seemed weak and tired. His back and his shoulders, not the ones of a child anymore, but of a brave and mature man, seemed to be lost in the darkness.

"I promised myself that I would have built my own family, that I would have had a person by my side for whom I would have been ready to give my life, that I would have had children. I would have built everything I've always wanted and never had," he said smiling. "This was my dream," he sighed closing his eyes.

"It's really admirable Your Majesty," Daryun commented, not so surprised by the sovereign's confession.

"This was _my_ dream," Arslan repeated filling his words with conviction and sadness together. "But I never asked Estelle if it was hers too."

Daryun kept staring at him, motionless, unable to say a single word since everything that crossed his mind seemed unsuitable.

"This is awfully selfish, don't you think Daryun?" the young king asked, turning to look at the General.

"Your Majesty, egoism isn't part of your character," he answered instinctively, unable to link such behavior to him.

"And yet I never considered the possibility that her life was already complete as it was," the king continued sighing. "And that she didn't desire anything else."

"I beg you, Majesty, don't let such negative thoughts upset you," Daryun implored, showing his worry more than he intended.

"In my opinion, you have shown how much you care for the queen: you've been willing to draw on yourself her disappointment, preferring her safety. It's impossible for me to define such behavior as selfish," he added hoping to lift the king's mood. Arslan chuckled softly.

"In any case," the General added, "you'll be able to know Her Majesty's thoughts when you'll meet her again. Don't torment yourself in vain."

Arslan sighed again and his lips bent in a soft smile. He moved a few steps and Daryun managed to see clearly his face's features, now illuminated by the small fire.

"Forgive me if I got you involved even when I should have been able to manage by myself," Arslan said placing a hand on his shoulder. "You see, it's easy for me to confide in you because I'm sure you'll listen to me and you'll be sincere. Thank you Daryun."

The limitless gratitude that the king's blue eyes never quit to convey to the General shone not only through his voice, but through his words too. He left his shoulder and headed for the camp.

"I'm honored Your Majesty."

He turned around but Arslan had already disappeared beyond the tents. That helpless, weak little boy, touched by death on the fields of Atropatene, had managed to save his reign, to conquer the throne with his people's approval. He had had the courage and determination to follow his heart instead of conventions. And now he was becoming a father.

It was really difficult to recognize him, but the ones who had always served him devoutly since the first day couldn't help but looking proudly at young king Arslan of Pars.

The wagon moved slowly, clambering onto dirt and abandoned tracks, entering the nocturnal darkness, guided by the moonlight that silently suggested the way. Two horsemen proceeded ahead the small and improvised procession, opening the path to the wagon. Two other knights followed it. The wooden wheels clashed relentlessly against the rocks emerging everywhere on the track, making the wagon, and the people who found shelter in it, jolt.

The continuous jerks were only one of the reasons why Estelle couldn't find peace. Sitting with her arms and legs crossed, she sighed for the umpteenth time, leaning against the wagon's wall. Despite the darkness, she could clearly discern the two men serving as guards, who apparently hadn't had any problems to fall asleep. Another jerk and Estelle had to grit her teeth because of the stab of pain in her shoulder, but it wasn't enough to divert her from her thoughts.

Arslan had never talked to her that way. He had never been so severe, not even when she had tried to kill him, she thought remembering events that happened years before. Besides terribly annoying her, Arslan's words had unsettled her more that she was willing to admit. She recalled their conversation, playing with her long blond hair, a gesture that showed all her unease.

Was it possible that what she had done had disappointed Arslan so much? She had answered her homeland's distress call, hadn't Arslan done the same thing? She had rushed in the battlefield thinking only about fighting for her people, was it a serious mistake? She wanted to protect the people she loved, but hadn't Arslan done the same thing ordering her immediate return to Ecbatana?

Estelle bit her lip. How could she blame him if his behavior was dictated by the same principles that guided her own life? And how could she think of not involving him in a such important and exciting moment in a man's life?

A jerk pulled her out of her thoughts and she found herself in the wagon's darkness again. Her gaze was no longer strict, but a bit sad, as it wandered thoughtful between the wooden walls. Only when she looked at her hands she realized they had slid gently on her belly. She stared at them for a few minutes, suddenly calmed down by the warmth she believed to feel.

For the first time Estelle accepted sincerely and wittingly that soon she would have to face the most difficult challenge of her life.

The wagon stopped abruptly. Estelle and the two guards were thrown ahead. The two men woke up with a start and looked around confused. Estelle managed to sit again, pressing a hand on her aching shoulder. One of the two soldiers rushed at her side, the other pulled out his sword and run towards the exit.

"Wait here Your Majesty," he exclaimed disappearing beyond the drape. It took a few seconds and a tearing cry broke the silence.

Estelle stiffened and the soldier strengthened his grip on her arm, due to his being terrorized more than willing to protect her. After hesitating for a few moments, the guard stood up and walked slowly towards the exit pulling out his sword.

"Wait here Your Majesty," he mimicked his companion trembling. He thrusted the drape open and his body was thrown backward. Estelle moved aside in time to avoid being crushed by the man's corpse, pierced by an arrow in his chest. The queen withdrew in the bottom of the wagon looking frantically for the sword that she had ordered to place carefully among her luggage. She managed to grab it and an annoying crackling of shattered wood and torn fabric made her turn around.

A sneer whose disgust was emphasized by two dark eyes that stared at her under thick black eyebrows was waiting for her on the other side of the wagon. A noisy laughter erupted from the man's thin lips, visible beyond the thick and untidy beard.

"Well, well, well. What have we here?"

The bandit sure intended to terrorize the woman in front of him with his mocking attitude and without doubt he would have never expected that Estelle, extremely irritated by his, to say the least, ridiculous behavior, would have thrown herself on him wielding her sword. The man withdrew and still confused unsheathed the saber that hanged from his belt. He dodged the queen's blow but having arched his back too much he slipped outside the wagon. Estelle followed him, her sword still in her hand, letting the freezing air hit her. The bandit, again on his feet, no longer stared at the queen with arrogance, but annoyed by his failure. For the second time Estelle took the lead and charged. The bandit counterattacked and the two engaged a fierce battle. Between the blows, Estelle glimpsed three of the four horsemen on the ground, lifeless. Next to the corpses of the parsian soldiers lay two other men with their sabers still in their hands. Not far away the fourth, unsaddled, was fighting against two men who, considering their poor clothing made of pelt, had to be the bandit's companions. The soldier managed to mortally wound the shorter and squatter one, but when he rushed against the other, his agility didn't match his sword's effectiveness: one fell at the hands of the other. Estelle and the bandit were now alone.

The bandit, realizing he was the only survivor among his men, grunted angrily and charged against Estelle venting all his brutality. The queen managed to respond to the first blows, but the growing pressure on her shoulder tormented her with terrible pain. The hold on her weapon weakened and counting only on her agility, she struggled to dodge the man's blows, trying to ignore the nausea and dizziness. The queen's energy's weakening didn't go unnoticed to the bandit, who concentrated his rage in a direct and decisive blow, whipped violently against Estelle's blade. Her strength abandoned the young woman. The brutality of the blow made her cry in pain and threw her against the wagon's wall. Estelle lost the grip on the hilt and her sword bolted away. The bandit got closer to the queen who had collapsed on the ground. Her beautiful features were bent in an awful grimace and her amber eyes pointed like arrows at her aggressor. The man resumed the mocking look with which he had thought to scare the woman and burst in a loud laughter.

"Did you really think you could compete with me? I am the king of these mountains!"

The man grabbed the sword with both his hands and lifted it above his head, ready to lower it on Estelle. The queen's despising gaze incited the men's murderous intent. He laughed loudly and lowered his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer**_ _: I don't own any of the characters_

 _ **Note**_ _: this fanfiction only represents my personal headcanon. Read it as it is: my own version of the events._

 _I translated this from my original work (written in Italian), so be aware of possible grammar mistakes. Suggestions and advices are welcomed!_

 **Chapter 4**

The blood spurted everywhere. It stained her clothes, her face, even the wagon's wall. Estelle thought about Arslan, about how cold their last meeting had been, about the baby she should have protected and now would die with her. Tears dampened her eyes. Estelle tried to focus on the pain caused by the new wound in order to endure it better. It took less than a second and she realized that the only pain tormenting her came from her sore shoulder.

Gathering all her courage, she opened slowly her eyelids and even if she was shocked to be still alive, she glimpsed the bandit's body above her. The man's sword slid on the ground bumping on the path's rocks. Another drop of blood dripped on Estelle's face, who, clear headed again, opened her eyes widely. She found herself staring straight at the sharpened tip of a sword that stuck out the bandit's torn chest. She raised her gaze on his face, horrendously bend in a painful grimace, his eyes and mouth widely open. The sword pulled back and the bandit's body bent on his hip collapsing on the ground. Estelle remained motionless, unable to speak or even think. Arslan appeared from behind the man's body, with the blood dripping sword still in his hands. His blue eyes were gloomy with rage and disgust, threatening like never before. However, meeting Estelle's incredulous look was enough to make him change his expression. His face was crossed by worry and relief at the same time. Arslan dropped the sword abandoning it on the ground and rushed to his wife without a second thought.

"Estelle! Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" he asked her running a hand over her face to dry the tears dripping restlessly that were smudging with the savage blood. Estelle didn't answer and kept staring at him, still believing that she was hallucinating.

"Estelle…" Arslan softly called her again. The queen didn't manage to express any sensible answer and the words that left her mouth obeyed only the laws that ruled her heart.

"I'm sorry…"

Arslan opened his eyes wide, confused. Sure he would have been readier for Estelle's outburst of rage, for her claim of being able to take care of herself, for her resolved tone. He had never imagined that his queen would let someone see her so broken and vulnerable.

A tender smiled appeared on the king's lips, as Estelle kept crying for reasons not even she could understand. Arslan let his hands slip along her arms. He leaned over to hug her, but suddenly a painful pang made him block abruptly.

"Arslan!" Estelle cried feeling his fingers gripping unnaturally her arms. The king gritted his teeth and making an effort he managed to move a hand to his hip. Estelle followed his movements and what she saw made her jerk horrified.

The bandit, flattened on the ground by his own dying body, had gathered all his forces, enough to pull out of his belt a dagger and stuck it in Arslan's flesh. Hissing among the trees, an enviable strong and precise arrow reached the man's head, ending his life once and for all. Arslan appealed to all his courage and gritting his teeth pulled the blade out of his hip sharply, as Estelle called his name restlessly. Not even Elam's appearance, followed by Daryun and a handful of soldiers managed to calm her. Arslan looked at her forcing himself to smile.

"Don't worry. It's not so deep," he lied, even if he knew Estelle wouldn't be convinced by so little explanation.

"Don't talk nonsense!" she growled frowning.

"Your Majesty!"

In a few seconds following Daryun's orders, the soldiers surrounded the sovereigns. Elam sent two of them back to the main camp to prepare it for every eventuality and to obtain reinforcements and medicaments.

Some soldiers, deciding it was too dangerous to make him travel by horse, helped Arslan to lay on the ground, protected from the rocks only by a cloak. Daryun reached the queen, crouched next to her husband.

"Your Majesty, are you feeling well? Wouldn't it be better if I escorted you back to the main camp?" he asked her kneeling beside her.

"No," she answered not even looking at him. The only thing she was paying attention to was Arslan's sweaty face.

"Daryun… Take her back to the camp immediately," the king mumbled.

"No!" Estelle affirmed again. "I'm fine here where I am."

Arslan sighed and Daryun smiled.

"Your Majesty," he told her. "His Majesty the King was worried about you and he wanted to make sure of your safety. As soon as he realized you were in danger he ordered to call for reinforcements."

"However he preferred not to wait for us and took action," Elam concluded, getting off his horse.

Estelle looked at Arslan annoyed.

"See? You got into trouble again! You risked your life! You should think before acting!" she shouted at him.

Daryun and Elam looked at each other speechlessly, but Arslan, by now used to understanding the feelings Estelle preferred hide under her cold words, smiled, comforted by his queen's usual honesty.

Arslan and Estelle were escorted back to the camp on a new wagon. There they were nursed by skilled doctors who had been called from the nearby area.

The king's wound was actually less deep than they had expected and after a painful inspection to avoid possible infections, a thick bandage was enough to protect his hip.

Estelle was seen by an infinity of doctors and midwives, whose opinions were gathered as ordered by Arslan. Estelle's claims to be perfectly healthy were confirmed only partially by the medical examinations: everyone agreed on the relative good conditions of mother and child, but they recommended absolute rest to the queen for the next weeks to prevent other dangerous traumas for herself and the baby. A journey of several days, or weeks, on a wagon carried through arduous paths sure didn't respond to the queen's necessities.

Arslan stared at the small fire burning in front of him, sitting on a wooden bench built from a tree's trunk. It had been two weeks since the attack against the wagon and the wound on his hip had already began to heal.

He had been thinking a lot lately. He had accepted the fact that Estelle, according to the doctors' words, wasn't in serious danger but knowing she would remain at camp was worrying him more than he wanted to.

Suddenly a rustle behind his back made him turn. Estelle was standing right behind him, wrapped in her blue cloak.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be resting?" Arslan asked her careful not to sound commanding.

"Well you should be resting too. That wound hasn't healed completely yet," she answered taking a seat next to him.

"Fair enough," Arslan commented chuckling. They kept quiet for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth the small fire was spreading.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," Estelle said broking the silence. Arslan waited a few seconds before answering.

"I know. And I know how much you wanted to take part in this campaign," he said. Silence filled the air again. The only sound was the cracking of the fire. Arslan was reminded of the conversation he had had with Daryun. There were many things he wanted to ask Estelle, still, he chose the most unexpected one.

"Estelle… Are you happy?" he asked looking at her.

His question was rather simple, but the young woman felt her heartbeat speed up. Estelle stared at him, as tears uncontrollably filled her eyes.

"I don't know…" she answered plainly. "And I feel horrible for this…"

Arslan hated seeing her so broken. He got closer and hugged her tightly. Estelle cried against his shoulder. It didn't matter if she looked helpless, the only thing she needed was to vent all her distress. Arslan stroked her hair gently until she stopped crying. Then he let her go and dried the tears on her face with his hand. Estelle regained her usual look.

"When I found out I was pregnant all I could think about was how to hide it," she said softly. "I wasn't even scared. The only thing I felt was annoyance. I guess I didn't want to accept what was happening…. How can someone like me be a good mother?"

"No one knows how to be a good parent. I guess we can only learn from experience. I'm so scared I'll ruin everything…" he confessed her, hoping to make her feel better. Somehow it worked since the queen lost all traces of sadness.

"Are you kidding?" she asked raising an eyebrow. "You're always so kind and gentle with everyone. Of course you'll be a good father!"

"I'm not so sure being kind makes you a good father," he argued staring back at the fire.

"Maybe not, but you sure have more possibilities than I have," Estelle said. Arslan smiled.

"You know what? I think that as long as we're together we have the same possibilities!" he exclaimed happily taking her hands. Estelle sighed and looked at him smiling.

"I'm wondering where do you find all that optimism all the times…" she commented making Arslan laugh.

"At least I finally made you smile," he said looking at her. His features became gentle again. He raised a hand and softly stroked her cheek.

"Even if I still think you acted recklessly, I hope you realize it's because the mere thought of you being hurt makes me go insane," he said looking at her. Estelle smiled softly. She took his hand and moved it from her face to her belly.

"I promise you I'll be more careful then…"

The fire was weakening and a gentle breeze had begun to blow. Some guards beyond the tents were patrolling the area making their armor creaking.

"We'd better go now. It's becoming colder," Arslan said helping Estelle to stand up.

"Do you think it will be a boy or a girl?" he asked out of the blue. Estelle looked at him speechlessly.

"It'll be a boy of course! And I'll train him to be the best knight in history!" she exclaimed heading for the tents.

Arslan sighed and followed her chuckling.

 _Three months later, when the campaign ended in favor of the allied forces of Pars and Lusitania, the triumphant parsian army entered Ecbatana and Estelle had to give up on wearing her armor, too tight for her softened shape._

 _Needless to say that the news was welcomed with great surprise and joy at Court. The queen was allowed to leave the Palace only if accompanied, and her behavior was submit to a series of prohibitions that, as she often cared to point out, made her feel in prison._

 _Prince Navid of Pars, firstborn son of king Arslan, a healthy blonde-haired and blue-eyed boy was born four months later._

 _Overjoyed, the king declared three days of celebration all over the reign._

 _ **Thanks to anyone who read and/or reviewed. I hope you enjoyed my fanfiction despite not being perfectly written.**_


End file.
